


To Bring Beauty Into This World

by Talullah



Series: Westernesse [21]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: Tar-Vanimeldë tries to mend a rift.
Series: Westernesse [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/296957
Kudos: 3
Collections: Legendarium Ladies April 2020





	To Bring Beauty Into This World

**Author's Note:**

> [Legendarium Ladies April - April 29](https://legendariumladiesapril.tumblr.com/post/616783517591928832/legendarium-ladies-april-prompts-for-april-29)   
> **General Prompt: Making the World a Better Place**  
>  **Picture Prompt: Kerolyn Soares, by[Txema Yeste](http://fashioncow.com/2019/12/kerolyn-soares-txema-yeste-vogue-espana-december-2019/)**  
>   
>  **Poetry Prompt: The Ink Dark Moon, by Izumi Shikibu**  
>  _In this world  
>  love has no colour -  
> yet how deeply  
> my body  
> is stained by yours._

**Armenelos, 2735 S.A.**

Alcarin, my dearest,

How fare you? Hopefully, this letter finds you in a better mood than the last one. I do wish you would return from Sorontil. It is a lovely place, with its rough, piney landscapes and the dizzying cliffs, but isolation is not what you need, even if you desire it. But, since you have made it clear that you do not wish to discuss these matters, I will tell you something of myself, perhaps nothing truly new to you, as I have been reflecting on these matters for a long time.

“The Queen lets her husband rule in her stead,” they say. Some say it gladly, because they think a woman’s hand should hold nothing more complicated than needles and floss, and certainly not the scepter. Others say it with discontent, because they want another Tar-Ancalimë or another Tar-Telperiën, someone of great hardness and shrewdness to lead them with force and cunning. Neither see my work, its depth and beauty. 

Tar-Vanimeldë, the idle Queen, the lost Queen. It is true, my son, and there is no point in denying it or arguing meanings with some people. The truth is that I do not like to dwell for long on taxes and plans for investment or reforms of some sort. That does not mean that I am vain and hollow. Take, for instance, the new bridges in Eldalondë, over the Nunduinë, what a work of art they are. When the people of Eldalondë complained that the crossing of the river to the south margin was a constant source of inconvenience, it was by my design that the finest architects and engineers of the land designed a system of roads and small bridges across the delta, forming the most effective connection that the city has ever had to the south side of the island. 

The Lords of Andunië shook their heads, called it a vain project, a waste of money, but your father, my beloved Anducal, found the money and built it for me. It has improved trade, it has created employment, all the things that the lords of the land seem to value… Was that not a good thing? But, in truth, this project and others of an equally utilitarian nature are but mere concessions on my part, because one cannot always swim against the tide and go against everyone. If I have to tell the absolute truth, I would have had the bridges built all over again merely to be able to gaze at their beauty, their graceful arches, the delicately carved white stone shining pink under those marvelous sunsets of the west.

Why does art have to be subjected to practicality? Can it not exist for its own sake? And the science that I have always promoted and even explored a little myself, can a man or a woman not try to know the mysteries of nature just to quench their curiosity? They tell me, have told me so, ever since I was a little girl, “Vanimeldë, first things first, idleness is akin to an offense in the face of Eru.” But who cares about the absent god and his lackeys in the West, who lock themselves with the treasures of their land. I shall go no further on this matter, my son, for I know that this matter offends you.

What I shall insist on, is that you never lose the heart and mind and will to see the beauty of this world and to find solace and strength in art, for it is not only the body that needs to be fed. We are a people of farmers, tradesmen, fishermen, and there is no hunger in the land, to speak of, so why not elevate our intellects. I know that my words are not wasted on you, and I thank you heartily for all the times that you have supported my projects, as a young man and now, in this later stage of your life. More than that, I thank you for loving poetry and music. I thank you for being an excellent painter, perhaps the finest of your generation, and I speak not only with a mother’s pride. “More like you than like myself,” your father often tells me of you, and, despite your quarrels, it is not without a good dose of pride and fondness that he recognizes your talent. 

There, I fear that I have strayed into the matters which you wish to avoid. But I must tell you what lies in my heart. 

He is a man of a great practical mind and his interests are very different from our own, and sometimes he may seem to despair about your unwillingness to truly devote yourself to the business of ruling, and to learn by his side the intricacies of that fine art. I only hope that, someday, you may find a woman who is of a similarly practical mind as your father’s, who can help you as he has helped me, to carry the weight of the kingship. For I was truly fortunate in my marriage, to have found a partner who, while opposite of me in many things, respects me, supports me, and continuously finds a way to relieve me of the duties that scorch my soul, taking in his hands all that I dread and leaving me free to devote myself completely to what I was born to do - to bring beauty into this world.

So, please, please, my dear son, make peace with your father. I do not wish to worry you, but lately I have felt tired and my heart began to beat awkwardly, at times. I do not mean to imply that I will be gone soon, but I have started to think about how one’s time in this world is, sadly, finite. I plan to spend every minute that I have left creating and giving all the beauty that I can, for the soul also needs nourishment, even the soul of a farmer, with his woodcarving by the fire, or the soul of a fisherwoman, with her song by the nets. Never let any of those sensible accountants who only recognize wealth in coins of gold dissuade you of that notion.

Your ever-loving mother,  
V., Q.

(Oh, and please do send me more poems. You may not think it is your strongest gift, but you do write beautifully. Indulge your poor mother The last painting you sent me - who is that gorgeous girl? Such beautiful skin, so finely complimented by those deep reds of the silk dress. Anyone I should meet soon?)

Finis  
April 2020


End file.
